


Tous Deux On est Repartis dans le Tourbillon de la Vie

by Melimelo



Series: Jonsa Twelve Days of Shipping Challenge [6]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Era, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Jonsa Twelve Days of Shipping, Mentions of everything that happened to Sansa, Missing Scene, POV Jon Snow, Repressed Feelings, Sharing a Bed, Stand Alone, because Jon is honorable, because it's the thought that counts, or Prequel (link in notes), season 6, was still a close call
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 02:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13204122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melimelo/pseuds/Melimelo
Summary: (Title : Together we go on in the whirlwind of lifeLe tourbillon de la vie, Jeanne Moreau)He couldn’t even begin to picture what she had endured, what she had lived through. Yet, hearing her pleading in the night, he would give anything to know, to be able to understand her, to soothe her.He had only ever wanted to soothe her.





	Tous Deux On est Repartis dans le Tourbillon de la Vie

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as a stand-alone or as a prequel to A Warm Interlude to the Ice of the Night (I’ll put the link in the end note).
> 
> Enjoy the story !

Nights were cold in Castle Black. Jon knew that, yet he admitted that between the proximity of the dorm beds, the even closer one he had with Ygritte and the – relative but still present – luxury of the Lord Commander’s quarters, he had forgotten what it was like to try to fall asleep in the icy wind. It kind of reminded him of the coldness he felt when he felt himself die and when he… came back.

But that was not him complaining – far from it. He was glad to be here for the simple reason that he was of use to _her_. Sansa. Sansa, who was very much alive, here, with him. He had trouble believing it at first. He thought a ghost had come to haunt him, for it couldn’t be harmless to be gone and then come back. There must be a price to pay. Yet he felt the same he had ever felt and was graced with Sansa beside him.

They had spent the last two days together, talking, observing, reacquainting themselves (or acquainting). As no one dared to disturb them – Jon was still considered as the Lord Commander and he made it very clear in well-chosen words that Sansa was _off-limits_ to any of them – they were growing close faster than Jon would have thought and – a few years earlier – dared to hope. He was reluctant the first seven seconds – when he saw her in the courtyard, dirty from days riding, hardened by trials of life, nothing like the teenager he remembered – but the infatuation he had experienced back in Winterfell was safely gone. Instead he relished in her company, not because of some boyish crush, but because she was family, she was home, she was everything he longed for.

Jon shifted in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. He was outside her door – one could never be too careful, and it was the Night’s Watch. Some might find the temptation too strong to resist. Added to that the fact that some had not seen a woman in months, specially one as lovely as Sansa.  
She had come here with her sworn-shield, a kind woman named Brienne and her squire, Podrick, an ungainly boy with a good heart. Still, they had to rest from time to time and Jon felt reassured to be the one watching over her. Sansa herself had thanked him when she found him half-asleep at dawn.

Her thanks weren’t the reason he spent the following morn feeling more content than he had in a long time. That would be the reaction he’d had were he six and ten again, fancying himself in love – which he wasn’t anymore. In fact, he corrected himself, it hadn’t been real love. He had been young, she had been young, she had been beautiful, he had been impressionable. He had wanted nothing more than to feel accepted by his family, to find a woman to love and marry and live without fuss in some place they could call home.

Jon was abruptly pulled from his memories when a faint sound made itself heard from the other side of the door. His blood turned cold, reflexes kicking in as he stood up, his hand reaching for Longclaw. The faint sounds had transformed in sobs intersected with soft pleas by the time he was near the bed.

Sansa was asleep, tears tracking down her pale cheeks, fists tightly closed on the furs, her chest heaving with her sobs. Jon’s heart broke a little more at the sight. She had evoked in passing what had happened to her in the hands of Joffrey, Cersei, Baelish or Ramsay Bolton and he figured there were more than she was letting on. But to see it, the result of the damage and pain she had endured, was heartbreaking.

He didn’t even realize he was kneeling and approaching her before he felt the silk of her untied hair under his hands.

“Sansa,” he started to whisper, trying to soothe her, still stroking her hair, “there’s nothing, no one to be scared of anymore. It’s over. The pain, the hardships – it’s all over. We’re together now. It’s all going to be alright, I promise you Sansa.” Over and over he repeated those words, pledging himself at the same time to make them come true, until she finally woke.

“J-Jon?” she asked the darkness, disoriented.

“It’s me,” he answered softly, letting go of her only to light a few candles.

When he turned back to her, she had sat on the bed and wiped off her tears, no sign of pain visible anymore. All of a sudden, the context slammed back into his mind. It was his shirt she was wearing, his bed she slept in, his gaze she permitted. That knowledge made all pretention fly away, leaving only sensation and wants. And oh! How Jon wanted !

The short distance between them was quickly crossed, for having centimeters separating her body from his was inconceivable. He threw himself at her, embraced her tightly and burying his face into her hair. He was breathing heavily, trying to make sense of what he was doing, the last part of rationality screaming at him that now was not a good time, that she just fled from one monster not to fall into another one’s arms. She was probably scared, too scared to move or scream or kick him.

However, that rational part of his mind was frail compared to the sensation of her chest pressed against his, her back under his roaming hands, her breath ghosting across his left cheek, her arms – by the old gods – hugging him back. 

She was murmuring his name over and over and Jon was slowly consumed. He was unable to resist such temptation. His hands were now desperate, gripping and stroking her back, her hair, her arms, her throat, her face and his lips strayed to one of her hand that drifted to his cheek, her cheeks, her locks, the corner of her mouth.

He lingered here, savoring the moment and the taste of her skin that remained on his lips – she smelled and tasted like the soap he used, and gods did that not quell his desires. He wanted her. Wanted her to feel the lust she inspired in him, wanted to love her as she deserved to be loved, wanted to show her what it meant to attain pleasure with someone who longed for her. 

_I want her to love me back._

That acknowledgment made him pause, reason and dread clearing the fog of lust that clouded his mind.  
This was wrong. This was very, very wrong. This was what he had sworn he’d never do, never be.

She did not want it, she was allowing his touches only because he was her brother. What they had done – it could be seen as a comfort between close siblings. A very desperate, abnormally long and uncharacteristically close one but a comfort nonetheless. Their lower parts hadn’t been in contact and he hadn’t say anything, so everything could be passed on a misunderstanding if questioned.

_That’s not gonna work, you foolish boy. She knows the way of men, she knows how bastard’s minds work, how sick and twisted they are – she was married to one ! She escaped the clutches of one and went to you for protection – yet you’re no better than him, than everyone who only saw her beauty and used her._

“Sansa,” he said, his voice rough and low, then stopped. What could he say? Should he apologize? Should he swear he’d never approach her again?

“Can you stay with me?” she asked, lying down under the covers.

Oh sweet temptation… She was going to be his end, he was sure of it. Yet what a lovely way to burn.  
No, he had to stop pondering about what-could-be. It was never going to happen. She was his sister.

“It’d be like we’re child again,” she added when he said nothing. “Robb stayed with me, sometimes, to protect me from dark monsters. I understand that my monster is very different from the ones I had, yet it is soothing being near you. And I’m embarrassed knowing I kicked you out your chamber to the outside.”

He was weak. He nodded, getting up to remove his cloak, boots and sword, and joined her under the covers. She prevented him from putting the candles out, “It’d be better if I can see it’s you”, increasing his guilt over what he had been about to do.

She was facing him, a serene smile on her lips, eyes trusting but getting drowsy, holding one of his hand. As for him, he did not dare make a single move, for fear his intentions would dawn on her. He watched her observe his hand, lightly stroking the back of it, alighting his every nerve with longing.

But the desperation had passed. He could control himself – despite being a bastard, he did not let his baser instincts rule him. Even when she was sharing his bed, wearing his shirt – the perfect beginning to all his fantasies. 

He watched her fall asleep in his arms, his palm languidly caressing her hair. He would indulge himself that one act, would forgive himself that one moment of unrestrained desire for it was a once in a lifetime event. 

He would have to accept that, just as he accepted all his previous considerations were false, and the love he felt for Sansa was still present.

The morn will soon come, all will be unchanged, and it will remain that way.

==-==

Except it didn’t.  
Instead, it was more and more frequent that, after lengthy discussions about Winterfell and their future, Sansa would offer him to stay.  
So frequent that it kept on occurring, daily, even when they took back their home.

It was never as passionate as that first night at Castle Black but it was equally intense. His sleeping pattern was different from hers, so he could spend hours watching her sleep. He winced – it did not matter how much he replaced the words, it did make him feel like an old pervert.

Fortunately, she was asleep and so wasn’t a witness to his shame. No matter what, they always ended up falling asleep together, in each other’s arms. Sometimes, he would dare to gently kiss her forehead or her temple, but never lower than her nose.

He was content. It was more than he would have ever imagined experiencing. And well, he did was daring most nights than not.

 

_Dans le tourbillon de la vie_  
_On a continué à tourner_  
_Tous les deux enlacés_

_In the whirlwind of life_  
_We go round and round_  
_Together entwined_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! I hope you liked it.  
> Click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160028) for the second part of the story – or click on the series’ link, it’s the second one.
> 
> Tomorrow’s fic will be High School AU or Enemies to Lover Trope.


End file.
